


A Trip Through The Sandburg Zone

by LilyK



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:13:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/pseuds/LilyK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair experiments on Jim in a new way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Trip Through The Sandburg Zone

**Author's Note:**

> I should mention that I was sitting in the vet's office reading a magazine when I saw this article. This was many years ago, btw, when my bull terrier was still with me. This article made me giggle and then the light bulb came on: Sentinel story! I can't remember the magazine any more (something like Dog World or one of those) but the bullet points are theirs. I, of course, turned them into a TS story. :)

Thanks to my betas for their help, and to my publishers for putting this story out in a zine many moons ago.  
This story received a Honorable Mention in the humor category from the Light My Fire Awards. Thanks to everyone who voted for it.  


* * *

So I'm sitting in the dentist's office waiting to be called in for my turn because I have this damned toothache and it's killing me. I have to wait because the dentist didn't have any openings, but they're being nice and squeezing me in between other patients. I'm being as patient as possible under the circumstances, but I'm anxious about having the tooth fixed and restless because I'm bored. I had left the loft in a hurry, and I didn't bring anything with me to read, so to distract myself for a while I pick up the first magazine my hand hits on the small table next to my chair. "Canine Universe". I smile at the cute furry fellow on the cover and flip through the pages, trying to take my mind off the throb in my mouth. I'm not paying a whole lot of attention to the articles, but I stop and scan the photos until I start reading an article entitled, "Twenty Ways to Reduce Stress". That perks my ears up, so to speak. Jim always needs his stress reduced. 

Jim Ellison, my partner, my best friend, my lover. And my life. We've been together for almost five years now and it just gets better all the time. It's gotten a hell of a lot better since we discovered the mystery of the universe about two years ago. And what would that mystery be, you might ask? Jim Ellison loves Blair Sandburg. That was some earth-shaking revelation, believe me. And it was even more marvelous because I knew that Blair Sandburg loved Jim Ellison. God, I do love it when the universe is in alignment and the stars and planets are in their proper places. Life is good. 

Anyway, back to Jim and stress. I start reading the article and I start chuckling quietly. This is too good. Twenty ways to reduce stress. I think about Jim. Now, don't get all defensive on me. Jim is a male animal, after all. He's a god, that's true. He's perfection enclosed in a 6-foot package of hard muscle and beautiful smile and great dick. He's sensitive and emotional also. Qualities that he hides quite well from the rest of the world, but things I've witnessed first hand, so I know what I'm talking about. But Jim is also a very male animal. He growls when he strips my clothes from my body. He growls when he fucks my ass and sends my brain into meltdown. He growls when he ravishes my body until I'm screaming and coming so hard that I think I'm going to pass out. Yes, he's an animal. And I love it. 

Anyway, I go up to the receptionist and ask her to photocopy the article for me. Twenty ways to reduce stress. I'll conduct my own little experiments. Hell, I don't even need to take notes anymore. Jim's reactions will be etched in my brain for all eternity. 

* * *

  1. Acquire a puppy from a breeder who has emphasized early socialization, and then involve the puppy in positive social interactions. This helps reduce the likelihood of social stress problems later. Generally, a well-socialized puppy will grow into a more stress-proof adult than his poorly socialized counterpart. 



* * *

Well, I acquired Jim from a breeder who fucked up his early socialization big time, so I scratch out that part. Involve Jim in positive social interactions. That part I can handle. Now I know what you're saying -- but Jim's not a puppy! I know that, but think about it. He's willing to learn. He's happy when his belly is rubbed. He is content after a good meal. He likes being used at stud. There is a bit of a parallel, after all. I can see you rolling your eyes right now. 

After the dentist fixes that broken filling, I make a beeline for the loft. I walk in and before I can take off my coat and hang it up, one enthusiastic man has enfolded me from behind in a bear hug and is burying his nose in my hair. See? -- puppy-like qualities: snuffling and excitement. 

"Mmmm, Blair, you smell wonderful." Jim mumbles through lips pressed against the back of my head. 

"Hello, Jim." I laugh and wrap my hands around the arm that is holding me. He squeezes me harder while he hugs me, practically lifting me from the floor. He releases me and spins me around, kissing me soundly. 

I run a hand down the side of his face, laughing. "Geez, Jim, I missed you too." 

Jim is grinning widely. "How's the tooth?" 

"Oh, man, good now. Thanks. Say, how about we go out for a while?" Remember that socialization is important. 

Jim puts his hands on my shoulder, reluctant to break contact with me. He's always a bit possessive when we've been separated for any length of time, say, anything more than five minutes. "Sure, Chief! What did you have in mind?" 

"Oh, I don't know. A date. Dinner and a movie?" I suggest. 

Jim laughs. "Okay. A date sounds good." He nods happily. Not bad for a puppy whose early socialization sucked big time. 

I find myself grinning at my lover. "And it will be my treat." Positive reinforcement is very important when training, I remind myself. 

Well, the dinner and the movie were very positive social reinforcements. I rate this first stress-reducing venture a great success based on the fact that when we came home after our date, Jim gave me a blowjob that had my toes curled for two hours afterwards. Have I told you how absolutely talented Jim is in bed? Too late if you weren't one of the many women he's slept with over the years, because now, he's all mine. Man, I'm going to love this stress-reduced Jim a lot. 

* * *

2\. Make special time for your dog. Walking, sitting together and just enjoying each other's company can help both pet and owner weather emotional changes. It also helps make sure the dog isn't forgotten when things get more stressful for you. A dog can be a great comfort and can help make stress more bearable. 

* * *

"I can't believe that fucking DA did that!" I fume as we walk from the courthouse to the parking lot after the preliminary hearing. "We spent months getting that case together and he screws it up in ten minutes with that plea bargain." 

Jim reaches over and rubs the back of my neck sympathetically. "Yeah, Chief, it sucks the big one." 

I glance at him at the metaphor and see that he's serious. For a second I thought he was teasing me about my reaction, but I realize that he's as pissed as I am. I lean into his touch minutely, but he notices. I'm one big tense muscle. After we climb into his truck, I sit breathing in and out slowly, trying to find that calm place in my body. Jim is silent as he drives towards home. 

I think about the second stress reliever. I know that Jim's upset. I know that I'm upset. We definitely need some special time together. 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Say, man, it's early and we're off tomorrow. Let's go and get the gear, and head out of town for a day or two. Let's go to the Cascade National Park and hike for a couple of hours. Sleep out under the stars tonight." 

"Oh, God, Blair. That sounds great. I'm all for it. I need some peace and quiet after today." Jim sighs. "It's going to be cold tonight. You think you can handle it?" 

I glance at him and see the stress wrinkles around his eyes. He definitely needs some down time. "Shit, Jim. Don't do that to me." 

Jim looks all innocent. "Do what?" 

"You're a bastard, you know that. I can more than handle it. You just wait until I handle it. You'll be screaming to the heavens." 

Jim laughs. "I'll keep you warm," he volunteers. 

I grin and nod. "Then let's do it. Right now." 

"Okay," is all Jim says. Next stress reducer, enjoying each other's company, coming right up. 

We hit the loft, grab the gear, make a pit stop at the store, and are heading out of Cascade in under an hour. Only thirty minutes out of town and I'm already seeing Jim's body start to relax. I slide next to him and buckle myself into the center seatbelt, leaning my head on his shoulder and putting a hand on his thigh. I feel his calf muscle flex under my hand so I squeeze the flesh under my palm. 

"Don't start anything, Chief. I'll have to pull this truck over right here on the highway. Then you'll be in big trouble," Jim growls. 

Have I mentioned how much I love it when Jim growls? I feel the blood rush to my groin just from the sound of his voice. The bastard has actually made me come before by just talking dirty to me. 

"How much longer until we get there?" I ask a bit breathlessly. 

Jim looks at me from the corner of his eye, giving me that knowing smirk. He can smell my arousal, of course. "We'll go to Camp Conifer. It's usually pretty deserted this time of the year, so another hour or so. Can you hold out that long?" 

"No," I answer truthfully, sliding my hand into the heat between Jim's legs. He presses his thighs together, capturing it. 

"You'll have to," Jim teases. 

I nod and smile, snuggling closer to my lover. I turn my face and press my nose against his arm, sniffing deeply. I love Jim's smell. He just chuckles and presses down on the gas a bit harder. 

We get to the trailhead and hike for about thirty minutes, talking occasionally, but mostly just walking and breathing the clean air with only one stop for a kiss. We're saving it up for the finale tonight. 

It's pretty late in the year for camping and to our great pleasure, the entire campground is deserted. We drop our stuff in a secluded site with a good lake view. It's just before sundown and while Jim starts a roaring fire, I set up the camp and dig out the makings for dinner. We eat, laughing and joking companionably. Nothing is said about Cascade, or the PD, or today's trial, or tomorrow's investigations. This is our time. We both need that stress reducer. 

After a short walk along the lake after dinner, we straggle back to camp. Jim stokes the fire and we climb into our double sleeping bag after stripping to our birthday suits. Believe it or not, after we lay wrapped in each other's arms and talk for a long time about nothing in particular while lazily exchanging small kisses, there is no desperate search for sex, no grasp for a quick orgasm. We just drift off to sleep without even one dick being sucked. Man, we must have been really stressed and tired. 

But don't worry, when the sun came up the next morning, Jim's eyes open. Mine open, too, when Jim's mouth teases my body and his fingers invade my ass. We made up for last night by making this morning even better. It's a good thing there weren't any other campers because they would have come running to investigate all the screaming. 

There's something very invigorating about making love in the outdoors. It's so hot and lustful. It's open and passionate. It taps the jaguar and the wolf in the Sentinel and the Guide. I had Jim howling through two orgasms. And he thought I was loud when I screamed through one. The man has a set of lungs on him, let me tell you. 

* * *

3\. Change disciplinary interactions to focus on the positive and reinforce appropriate behaviors. Positive training methods have been proven to get better results, with less stress, than methods that focus on changing behaviors using fear-causing negative methods. 

* * *

"For God's sake, Chief, do you think you can at least pick up your dirty clothes from the bathroom floor so I can walk?" Jim barks at me. 

I shake my head in exasperation at myself. I just don't understand why I can't remember to clean up after myself. It is definitely a trait of mine that needs improving. Apparently Jim hasn't read the same article about using fear-causing negative methods. And apparently, fear-causing negative methods work on me because I dash to the bathroom to retrieve my mess before Jim skins me. 

Then I shake my head at him. "There. Happy?" 

Jim surveys the bathroom. "Yes." 

"Good." I turn to take the armload of laundry to stow until I can get to it, when Jim grabs my shoulders. 

"Geez, Blair, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. It's just as easy for me to pick them up as you." 

I look at Jim with surprise. He must be feeling off to be so snappy. I try to reassure him. "Oh, no, Jim, it's definitely my fault. You shouldn't have to pick up after me. I'm a slob, I know that." 

Jim rubs his fingers into the spaces above my collarbone, sending little tingles down my spine. "I know that, too," he says quietly. "But I love you just the way you are. I'm just feeling a bit off today." Ha! There it is. 

"Really, Jim, it's okay. Let's get out of here for a while. Go and shoot some baskets, or how about bowling? Something fun. I'll do the laundry later this afternoon." 

Jim cocks his head at me and smiles. "Sure, Chief. That would be good." 

* * *

12\. Provide appropriate attention and social interaction. Play is great for dogs to help keep stress levels low. 

* * *

Oops. Sorry. I guess number 12 managed to sneak in out of order. Since we are playing, I thought I would mention it now. Play is great. Jim and I both work hard and we love to play. We shoot baskets, we go to the batting cages and take our frustrations with work out on harmless baseballs, we hike and fish, all the usual guy stuff. I like bowling myself because I've found out that I'm damned good at it. Don't ask me why, but I never really bowled a lot until last summer when some guys at the PD organized a bowling league and conned Jim and me into joining. Jim's a darned good bowler, but his problem is that he threatens the ball and sends pins flying everywhere with shear brute force. I've tried to encourage a bit of finesse, but he just growls at me. 

"Chief, you bowl your way and I'll bowl mine," he grouses after sending pins flying every which way, but leaving that 7/10 split for the sixth time tonight. 

I just shrug, chalk up my fingers and bowl another strike. Jim scowls at me when I finish my five games with 201, 199, 213, 174, (Hey, give me a break. He distracted me by flirting with me.) and 234. 

* * *

4\. Enroll in a positive reinforcement training class to improve your leadership skills and provide an outlet for frustrated canine energy. 

* * *

The thing about Jim Ellison is that he was really used to being alone and doing for himself before I came along. Then there was those three years that we lived together as roommates when I was studying him for my Sentinel research and he grudgingly let me into his life to help him learn to control his senses. When the Sentinel project went to hell, I figured my life with Jim was over, but it was just moving into a different stage. Life is like that a lot. Different places at different times. 

Anyway, I went to the police academy and became Jim's official partner. And since that time, things have been totally different. After we became lovers shortly after I graduated from the academy, Jim really changed. Now, he's more in tune to me on all levels. One thing that I've noticed is that I like doing things for him. Must be because I love the guy. And he always notices. When I cook or clean, or when I give him a back rub or bring him a beer, he is always pleased. He never takes our relationship for granted, which I appreciate so much that it just makes me want to do more for him. 

Where I'm going with this is that me doing little things for Jim leads to Jim doing little things for me. I consider that positive reinforcement. The more I do for him, the more he appreciates it and does for me. And I don't just mean when we're having sex, although that's an exciting bonus that I really enjoy. Sure, we have our negative moments and we get frustrated with each other sometimes, but all in all, we appreciate each other a lot since we both know what it's like to be without the other person. 

Jim says he likes me better alive than dead. I know when he says that lightheartedly, it's to relieve the pangs of anxiety or fear he still sometimes feels when he thinks about what happened. But that incident helped cement our relationship permanently. I know that sounds dorky, but I love it when Jim gets all sentimental on me. He doesn't even have to be drunk to be mushy. Man, now I am rambling. 

* * *

5\. Use a systematic process of desensitization when moving or introducing environmental changes. Gradually and incrementally introduce the change. 

* * *

You would think that whoever wrote this article had a Sentinel in the garage or basement. This is exactly how I had to treat Jim for years. Hell, it didn't matter what experiments I wanted to conduct. Jim always objected. I had to use obfuscation, deceit and outright lying to get him to agree to the smallest experiment. I would have used sex if I had any idea that Jim would have been amenable to it way back then. Who knew? 

* * *

6\. For a dog that is sensitive to noise, try to mask outside noises with a television or radio when the dog will be alone. Work to desensitize the dog to the source. Small amounts of the irritating substance are gradually and repetitively introduced until they do not result in a stress reaction. 

* * *

I laugh loudly when I read number 6. Small amounts of the irritating substance? namely, me, Blair Sandburg. I certainly irritated Jim in more ways than I can count when we first met. I was definitely a noisy distraction to him after he had lived alone all those years. He yelled at me about everything once he let me move in. He hated what I ate. I was never clean enough. I didn't use the spray. The list goes on and on. But you know what? After five years, I think I've finally desensitized him to me. 

Now it's the exact opposite. He's antsy when I'm not with him. He paces when I have to be away for any length of time. He goes with me to the grocery story or to have my car fixed when he could be home watching the game on television. He growls at me when I suggest he might like some time to himself. 

"Chief, I like being with you," Jim informs me as his hands touch my arm, my shoulder, my hair. 

What can I do? I love the guy. 

* * *

7\. See your veterinarian to rule out illness if your dog's behavior changes suddenly or doesn't respond to reduction of obvious stresses. Healthy dogs are less stressed than those suffering from undiagnosed medical problems. 

* * *

The doctor thing was a very big deal for a long time with me. I constantly worried that Jim might be taken to the hospital after being hurt and that I might not be able to get to him before the doctors started poking and prodding the way doctors do. And the worst was not knowing what drugs Jim would be given and how he would react to them. Well, I gave it a lot of thought and a couple of years ago I came up with a plan that made me feel a heck of a lot better. After explaining my idea to Jim and after he agreed that it was doable, we interviewed about a dozen doctors around Cascade. We both agreed on Dr. Jeffrey Roberts over at Lakeview Medical Center. He's a well-educated guy about the same age as Jim. 

What we did was make an appointment and after we all met and Jim felt comfortable with him, I told the doctor about Jim's enhanced senses. I gave him copies of all the research notes regarding Jim's reactions to drugs and food, anything pertaining to Jim's medical history that could be important. Because of the doctor/patient confidentiality and all the references we got about his outstanding character, we felt confident he would honor our requests for some semblance of privacy. Dr. Roberts was more than excited when he ran a few tests on Jim's abilities and since that time, we've had to rely on his expertise several times. 

One thing he did that has proven invaluable was that he flagged Jim's files in all the emergency room and medical clinic computers in Cascade where Jim's been treated. The other suggestion he made is that Jim wear a dog tag like the one he wore in the military with our phone numbers on it, and an alert regarding severe allergies. 

Now, if Jim is taken to any facility in this area that's he's been seen at before, and I'm not with him, a red flag pops up on his file advising the ER people to contact Dr. Roberts and me immediately. They are further advised that they are not permitted to do anything more extensive than stabilizing his condition should he be unable to tell them that he's allergic or hypersensitive to medications and medical procedures. If Jim's new to their facility, they have that dog tag that will alert them to contact us. 

It's a good thing we decided to go ahead and do this because it's been twice since the guidelines were put in Jim's records that he was injured and treated at one of the emergency rooms. It makes me feel a hell of a lot better knowing that I won't be coming to the ER to find Jim freaked or zoned after an injury or accident. And an extra bonus is that Jim and I have become friends with Dr. Roberts. The doctor respects Jim's request for privacy about his senses, something we really appreciate. 

* * *

8\. Maintain good health with regular visits to the vet. Keep up with regular veterinary exams to be sure the aging dog remains healthy into his golden years. 

* * *

Oh, damn. It's that time once again. The dreaded yearly check-up for the Cascade PD. You'd think by now that Jim would be used to it. Since that time when the doctor cleaned his ears and his hearing was fritzed for days before we finally figured out a way to get things back under control, he's always tense for a week before his appointment. I try to reassure him, and while he manages to pass his annual with flying colors each year, he still worries about it. 

"Chief, you'll come with me to the damned doctor's office, won't you?" Jim asks, a bit irritated that he has to use the department MD instead of his own. 

"Yes, Jim, I'll come with you. I have an appointment, too, remember?" I reassure my Sentinel. 

"Oh, right. Blair, so you think my senses will act up?" 

"No, Jim, I don't think your senses will act up." I speak in a calm voice. 

"You remember what happened that time that doctor cleaned my ears, don't you?" Jim says, as if he needs to remind me. 

"Of course I remember." I watch Jim carefully. Positive reinforcement. "Say, Jim, did I tell you that I bought this new book? It's really very interesting. It's the sexual practices of the ancient Egyptians. Complete with drawings." 

Jim's ears perk up. "Really?" 

"Yeah. I thought after we finish at the doctor's and if you are interested, we might go home and curl up in bed and look at the pictures together." I lightly drop the suggestion, watching Jim's reactions intently. He looks at me through sandy lashes and smiles. 

"You think you're pretty smart, don't you?" Jim raises an eyebrow. 

I shrug innocently. "What did I do?" 

Jim grins. "You think that I'll think about you and dirty pictures and us in bed rather than worry about the doctor." 

I grin. "Is it working?" 

Jim considers and then smiles. "Hell, yes. Keep talking." 

* * *

9\. Combat environmental sensitivity by reducing toxins and poisons around your home and yard. Try to find natural, biodegradable cleaning products rather than harsh chemical products. 

* * *

"What's all this stuff, Chief?" Jim asks me when he finds me on my hands and knees under the kitchen sink, pulling out every container of cleaning product that I can find and tossing them into the wastebasket that I've dragged over beside me. He picks up a bottle sitting on the counter next to the sink. "Orange Power," Jim reads out loud. "Cleans every surface thoroughly, leaving behind the wonderful scent of oranges. No need for harsh cleansers. 100% guaranteed or your money back." 

"These are environmentally friendly, fully biodegradable cleaning products without any harsh chemicals to send your senses into orbit or burn the shit out of your skin," I inform him blithely, replacing the crap from under the counter with the new items. "Besides, this product is guaranteed to work on all surfaces. You don't need twelve different cleaning products. Just this one which conveniently comes in several strengths and there's a spray, powder or liquid formula for every job." 

"Good God, Blair, you sound like a damned info-mercial." Jim starts retrieving each of the offending products that do contain harsh, non-biodegradable chemicals from the trash. "I like bleach. I need bleach. Bleach is our friend." 

I rise and brush off my hands. "Come on, Jim, give this stuff a chance. Bleach is not good for your senses. It's not good for mine either. And this crap..." I wave a spritz bottle of window cleaner in front of him. "Look, just read the label. 'Do not breathe product. Wear gloves when using product.' This stuff is dangerous," I tell him as I once again throw out the rejected items. "I promise, if you give this orange stuff a chance and hate it or it doesn't work, you can have your dangerous junk back. Okay?" 

Jim is a reasonable guy. He knows that it's my job as his Guide to keep him safe. It's also my job as a person living on this planet to try and save my tiny corner from hazardous waste. "Sure, Chief. I'll give it a try. Just for you." 

"Oh, man, thanks." I smile at his acquiescence. "Come on, let's grab a beer and watch the game. I'll make popcorn." 

Well, this just proves that positive reinforcement works every time, because when we sit on the sofa, Jim moves in close and sighs contentedly while he snuggles against me to watch TV. He's relaxed and just about as unstressed as possible for one Sentinel whose life is one giant stress factor as it is. 

* * *

10\. Feed appropriate food in the proper amount on a regular schedule. Provide fresh water at all times. 

* * *

Jim's due home in thirty minutes. I'm almost finished. Tonight is a surprise. Tonight is our anniversary. No, Jim doesn't remember, but I do. Tonight it's five years to the day that Jim let me move into the loft with him. Five years. It was supposed to be one week. I know I got the best part of the deal. 

I'm still working on those stress reducers. Tonight's stress reduction project is appropriate food in the proper amounts. The water will have to wait because I've bought a nice bottle of red wine. I smile to myself as I check on the lasagna bubbling away in the oven. I put the final touches on the freshly tossed salad and I arrange slices of crusty Italian bread in a wicker basket. The wine is waiting to be opened. The table is set and there are candles waiting to be lit. Everything will be ready when Jim gets home. 

He called from his cell. Only ten more minutes. I run up the stairs to our bedroom and change into the blue chamois shirt that's Jim's favorite and a pair of comfortable khakis. I leave my feet bare because Jim likes when I'm barefoot. He's got a thing for my feet. God, I love that guy. 

I hear the elevator clink and the doors slide open. I light the candles, grab the small package from the counter and stand just inside the door. Jim strides in and our eyes meet. He immediately flashes me that special smile of his that melts my insides. He takes in my tidy appearance while his nose takes in the tantalizing smells of dinner. 

Jim crosses the space between us in one long stride. "Hello, Blair." His voice is low and inviting. 

I'm grinning like a fool. "Hi, Jim," I answer. 

He wraps his arms around my shoulders and kisses me passionately. It's a gentle, tantalizing kiss with a promise of more to come later. Jim pulls back and waves his hand. "What's all this?" 

I smile at him lovingly. "This is for you. It's a very special day for me so I cooked you a very special dinner." I place the small box in his hand. "This is something I want you to have." 

Jim is pleased, but puzzled. He holds the package almost reverently. "Thanks, Chief. I feel kind of stupid saying this, but I don't understand. Did I miss something important?" 

"Oh, no, Jim, you didn't forget anything." I immediately reassure him. "It's just to me, today's a special day. Really, that's all. It's just something I wanted to remember and I wanted to share it with you. It's five years ago today you let me move in. It's just that I never had a real home before. I wanted to thank you." 

"Oh, shit, Blair." He pulls me close. "That's the nicest thing. Thank you." We look at each other and we're both getting a bit mushy here. I shrug and grin. Jim ruffles my hair. 

"So open it." I point to the package nestled in Jim's strong fingers. 

"Okay," he says, pulling off the thin cord holding the box closed. Jim pulls the lid from the box and lifts off a bit of tissue covering the contents. He takes out the small item nestled in the padded bottom. It is a small, carved piece of hematite. Jim hands me the box and concentrates on the stone. He rubs his finger gently over the smooth, cool surface. The stone isn't big, about the size of a half-dollar coin. 

"God, Blair, it's beautiful," Jim says in a soft, solemn voice. 

I'm so pleased at his reaction that I'm practically bouncing. "I figured that it's small enough for you to put in your pocket. Then you can run a finger over it, or hold it in your hand when you think of me, when you think about us. I had one of the Native Americans out at that special store on Dawson Boulevard carve it for me. They're very talented." 

Jim turns the small stone over several times. "Geez, Blair, the carvings are wonderful. The wolf and the jaguar look like they're alive. It's great. Thank you." Jim tightly wraps his hand around the small stone and pulls me close. He cups my head in his hand and kisses both of my eyes that I've closed tightly because I'm trying not to cry. Then he kisses my lips tenderly. Just seeing the pleased look on his face is enough to make me emotional. I wonder how I could have ever lived without Jim Ellison. 

I get my emotions under control and look at him happily. "Come on, dinner's ready. I bet you're hungry." 

"I'm hungry all right, Chief, and it's for you, believe me. But for now, since you've obviously gone to a lot of trouble here, I'll settle for food -- for now." 

I laugh loudly while I put the food on the table and Jim pours the wine. It is a wonderful dinner. It is a wonderful evening. All I wanted was one week. Jim gave me more. He gave me himself. 

* * *

11\. Provide routine physical care and a safe, comfortable environment. 

* * *

There's something incredibly wonderful about sharing a shower with Jim. Sometimes we shower alone because we're in a hurry. Sometimes we shower together but nothing much happens because we're tired or heading out and have an appointment someplace or we're going to work. But those times when we shower together for plain fun are some of my favorites. 

I love it when Jim makes love to me in the shower. In case you were wondering, being made love to by a Sentinel is something that's hard to describe. Do you have any idea what it's like to be the center of someone else's world? Being the center of a Sentinel's world is a thousand times more intense. There isn't anything about me that Jim doesn't know. He doesn't intrude or eavesdrop or trespass, but hell, he just can't help but hear, smell, taste, touch and see everything about me. He constantly tunes into me unconsciously. He says I keep him grounded. It's been so long that I don't even notice it. Jim's very inconspicuous about his observance of me, so much so that I forget sometimes until he says something like now. 

"Blair, you keep me sane, you know." Jim whispers in my ear as I stand with my back to him while he's washing my hair. "I'd be locked up somewhere if it wasn't for you." 

His voice, so soft and serious, makes me shiver. Jim feels the slight tremor and he pulls me back against him. I rest my head on his shoulder while the warm water caresses our bodies. "Same, here, Jim. Without you, I would be lost." 

Jim's hands roam under my arms and down my ribcage, delicately tracing each bone with his fingertips. "You could be a successful professor in a nice quiet job somewhere," Jim tells me while his fingers rub my nipples to hardness. 

"Fuck quiet," I answer through the moans that escape my lips. 

Jim chuckles, then presses his lips against the skin of my neck, kissing and licking the water running in small rivulets from my ear. His hands trail down my chest and through my pubic hair. You've never felt anything as sensual and delicate as Jim's hands running over your body. His sense of touch makes it possible for him to use the lightest caress while causing the most profound feelings. Sure, we've had hot, rough sex a lot of times, but not tonight. Tonight is loving and tender and slow. 

He runs his hands across my pelvic bones while my body shakes at the sensations and my dick throbs with need. When Jim's fingers brush lightly across it, I sigh with relief. Finally, he's touching me. The feelings crash over me in waves while Jim's one hand strokes me lovingly and his other hand teases my nipples. His hand on my chest travels slowly and gently from one nipple to the other. I just close my eyes and let the feelings rush through my body. I don't know about other guys, but my nipples are sensitive to Jim's touch. I absolutely love it when he ravishes them. Have I told you that he's made me come before by teasing and tickling my nipples? 

I love the feeling of an impending orgasm. My body tenses in anticipation, and I close my eyes and concentrate fully on the feelings coursing through me. I hear myself whimper and moan. I feel my hips thrust in time to Jim's strokes on my body. My hands clutch tightly on Jim's arm that he wraps around me firmly, holding me up because my knees are shaking. When Jim nips my earlobe, the sensation is my undoing. I shout my lover's name and pulse streams of hot come over his hand. 

Jim holds me close until I'm coherent again. I turn and wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. His erection is hard and pressed against my stomach. I wrap my hand around it and fondle it while exploring the recesses of his mouth. I know that one of Jim's big turn-ons is tasting his semen in my mouth. Who would have thought that a guy with such sensitive taste buds would love something like that? 

I release Jim's tantalizing mouth a bit reluctantly and drop to my knees, taking his dick into my throat after satisfying myself (and Jim!) by giving it a thorough going-over with my tongue. Jim wraps his fingers in my hair and thrusts his hips, fucking my mouth. I encourage him to push harder, but Jim's always conscious of hurting me so he just growls at me. I laugh and the sensation must be too much for him, because he's coming hard in just a few seconds. It could be that my hand tickling his balls helped also. 

After I've milked his erection of everything possible, Jim drops to his knees in front of me and pulls me in for a passionate kiss. I open my mouth and his tongue drives me insane when he explores every possible nook and cranny. Have I mentioned I love it when Jim kisses me? Who wouldn't? Jim is a wonderful kisser. He's made me come before just by kissing me. 

When Jim finally is content that he's conquered my entire body, he finally releases me and he smiles into my eyes. "I love you, Blair," he tells me, so seriously that I have to laugh. 

"I love you, too, Jim," I tell him through my laughter. Jim just smiles. 

The water is getting a bit cool so we reluctantly turn off the shower, dry off and dress. Have I mentioned that I love taking showers with Jim? 

* * *

13\. Teach dogs to be comfortable when alone and/or confined by introducing both concepts early, in small, positively reinforced doses. 

* * *

The funny thing is that Jim liked being alone before I came along. I sure screwed that up for him. He lived alone. He worked alone. Sure, he was married for a couple of years, but that didn't work out. Jim told me he was alone even when he was married. I know he meant that metaphorically. Jim never says much about Carolyn and I don't ask. After I made that one big mistake and talked to Carolyn about their relationship when I was researching my dissertation, I never intruded on Jim's past personal life again unless he offered the information. 

Jim's okay alone now for a few days, but he doesn't like it, and neither do I. I've come to realize that there are a couple of things involved in that. Part of it is the Sentinel/Guide thing. Jim and I have a bond that is a permanent commitment. I didn't realize that until after we'd been together for three years. It was during the dissertation disaster (that diss caused nothing but trouble let me tell you!) that I realized I couldn't live without Jim. Not that there was much I could do about it. I was out. He told me so. I was ready to hit the road. What could I do? As depressed as I was to think I was leaving Jim behind, there weren't many options left for me. I had to go. So I was ready to disappear quietly, never to be seen again. 

Then it happened. I'm saying goodbye and Jim's saying hello. He offers me his friendship and his partnership. I'm not stupid. I jump at the invitation. And am I glad I did! Because not more than two days after I graduate from the Academy, Jim confesses to me that he's in love with me. Not only that, he wants us to be lovers. Did I ever tell you what I did? For the first time in my life I passed out. Cold, right in the middle of the living room floor. I wasn't even cracked on the head or anything. 

Jim said afterwards that it was because I was holding my breath when he told me. He said he was sorry he gave me such a shock. I mean, my blood pressure dropped like a rock and so did I. I just crumbled into his arms. Into his arms was the best part because I've been in his arms ever since. Have I told you how much I love Jim Ellison? 

* * *

14\. Provide environmental enrichment with safe materials for chewing to reduce boredom and teething stress. 

* * *

"Jim, what are you eating?" I ask when I see that the fruit bowl on the counter is still quite full. 

Jim glances at me from the sofa where he is sprawled, watching an old Clint Eastwood movie. "Ah, chips and salsa, and beef jerky." 

"Good heavens, Ellison. You're determined to kill yourself, aren't you?" I yell at him as I stand behind the sofa with my hands on my hips. 

Jim shrugs and grins up at me. "How about a beer, Chief?" 

I roll my eyes and retrieve a couple of beers from the fridge. I come around the sofa and Jim lifts his feet, obviously indicating that I'm to sit so he can plop those boats in my lap. I pass Jim his beer and take a swig of my own. 

"Chip?" Jim offers. 

"No, thanks." I eat the apple that I've brought with me from the kitchen. 

Jim munches away, alternating chips and salsa with the beef jerky. I watch him while he eats and watches TV. I have to smile. Jim might eat junk food. He drinks beer. He doesn't watch his diet very carefully, but all in all, he's in fantastic shape. Jim burns off the calories as fast as he consumes them. He's past 40 now but he still works out religiously four times a week and it shows. His arm muscles ripple with health and vitality when he raises and lowers it to pop a bite into his mouth. He makes me hungry just watching him, and it's not for chips and salsa. 

Jim glances my way. Our eyes meet and he gives me a sweet smile. Only Jim can look at me that way and send hot waves of lust through my groin while sending hot waves of love through my heart. I return Jim's smile with a loving one of my own. 

"Hey, Jim, is that the spicy jerky?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"Give me a piece, will you?" What the hell, Jim and I will work off those calories later anyway. 

* * *

15\. Neuter pets to reduce hormonally based stress and health problems later in adulthood. 

* * *

No fucking way. 

* * *

16\. Exercise with your pet; it can work wonders for stress. 

* * *

I think we've pretty much done the exercise thing here. Suffice it to say Jim and I like lots of exercise. Remind me one of these days to tell you about the time I tied Jim up and had my way with him. He liked it so much that we've done it to each other a few times since then. There is nothing more exciting than a gorgeous man tied spreadeagle on a bed waiting for you to enjoy his body. Have I told you what a great body Jim has? God, but we both came so many times that night we slept for twelve hours afterwards. It's definitely a special occasion kind of thing or neither one of us would be functioning on a daily basis. 

* * *

17\. Learn to use massage and touch. Massage has come to be a widely accepted alternative method of healing and is a proven stress reducer. 

* * *

I pull Jim's truck into its regular parking space in front of the loft. I jump out and run around to the passenger's door quickly before Jim has a chance to try and get out by himself. Jim's so hardheaded that he thinks he's invincible. He's been hurt, you see. Damned perps. He fell through a rotten floor in an old warehouse while we were chasing two worthless losers who had tried to rob a small family-owned grocery store. 

I pull open the door and offer Jim my arm, which he takes gratefully. "Thanks, Chief," he mumbles. 

When his feet touch the ground, he stops and winces while trying to catch his breath. I run a hand on his arm. "Come on, man, concentrate. Dial it down." What you should realize is that if Jim's working the dials, they tend to nudge back up a bit at a time unless he keeps an eye on them constantly. It's a tiring process and not as easy as it sounds. Since Jim kind of zones on painkillers, we stay away from the drugs as much as possible. 

Jim's face is pale as he nods and closes his eyes. I wait patiently until I see a bit of relief wash over his features. 

"Better?" I ask quietly. 

He opens those gorgeous blue eyes and nods. "Yeah. Thanks, Blair." 

"Just lean on me, Jim." Jim wraps his arm around my shoulders while I wrap an arm around his waist. We take it slow and easy. Thank heavens the elevator is working tonight. I know Jim can dial the pain down, but that doesn't mean he's not hurting or that he doesn't have to be careful not to injure himself even more. 

We make it into the loft and I don't even stop until I've guided Jim up the stairs and over to the side of the bed. He sits cautiously and I undress him. I try not to respond to the condition of his body when I take off his shirt, but my quick intake of breath is noticed immediately, of course. Jim looks down at himself while I survey the black and blue marks. 

"Crap, Jim, you look awful. Come on, lay down and let me get those pants off of you," I tell my lover while I try to find a spot that isn't bruised on his arms or shoulders and direct him back onto the pillows. Jim just nods and clenches his teeth when he lies down. I finish undressing him. Even his legs have bruises coloring them like a patchwork quilt. 

When I have him settled, I point a finger at him. "You stay put." 

"I'm not going anywhere, Blair," Jim tells me. I just nod and smile. 

I go down to the kitchen and make some Sleepy Time tea. I put a small bottle of massage oil into the microwave for just a few seconds. When I go back upstairs, Jim's fidgeting on the bed. 

"Where does it hurt?" I ask. 

"Where doesn't it hurt?" he answers. 

"Come on, Jim, help me here. Concentrate. Dial it off. Dial the pain all the way down." I rub his arm very lightly while he concentrates. After several seconds, he focuses on me. 

"Better, Chief." 

I sit gingerly on the edge of the bed while Jim drinks the tea in spite of his statement that he's not thirsty. He's cranky and tired. He's sore and hurting. He's sexy even when he's whining. When he's finished, I take the empty cup from his hand. 

"I'm going to give you a massage," I inform my partner. 

Jim almost looks like he's going to protest, but he finally just nods. He lays back and watches me through his lashes while I pour a bit of the oil into the palm of my hand and rub them together making sure that it is a nice warm temperature. I start at his feet and use a light but firm touch. I want to relax him, not arouse him. I'm very careful around the bruised areas. I must have found the right touch because by the time I've worked my way up his legs and chest to his shoulders, Jim's breathing is slow and regular and while his eyes are closed, I can tell he's not asleep -- yet. He's not talking, but you know me, I can't shut up. I talk about nothing in particular, mostly about us and things we like to do together and things we need to try together. I keep my voice low and soothing. 

I gently nudge him over onto his stomach, and he turns and sighs when I start to work from his shoulders and down his back and legs. By the time I'm working on the backs of his thighs and legs, he's finally asleep. I cover him with a sheet and consider sleeping on the sofa, but I know Jim. He'll be restless unless I'm next to him. It's better that I'm in bed with him and that he's sleeping soundly. I'm well aware that even in sleep his Sentinel senses are aware of the Guide's location. I'm not sure how that works; just that it does. 

Have I told you just how comforting it is to sleep next to Jim? I was never much for sleeping with anybody before. And I mean sleeping. Not having sex. I always thought it was some shortcoming on my part. I would sleep with a woman and inside of an hour or two at the most, I would be restless. Something would drive me from the bed, and I would be up and out of her place, heading for home. I never knew what real comfort was until I slept next to Jim Ellison. It's physically comforting, sure, but it's much more. It's emotionally comforting. Now I can't imagine not sleeping with Jim. It's everything I ever dreamed of. It's soft and warm. It's like being home and being loved. I have a hard time explaining it. You'll just have to believe me when I say that I love it. 

* * *

18\. Consider natural alternatives to medication. Herbs that may help soothe stressed dogs include St. John's wort, valerian and kava kava. 

* * *

I put the two bottles of natural, organic vitamin and mineral supplements on the kitchen counter about a week ago. I just set them down, not saying anything about them. Every morning since then, I make sure Jim's in the room when I take the vitamins. I know he sees me taking the pills. I wonder how long it will be before his curiosity gets the best of him and he asks me about them. I know Jim. If I tell him to take the darned things, he'll tell me he doesn't need them and that he's perfectly healthy. Jim's right about one thing, he's perfect. But I don't like to bring up the fact that he is getting older. It's not polite, after all, to point out that fact to your older partner. 

One morning Jim finally asks, "What are those for, Blair? You feeling okay?" 

I shrug. "Yeah, sure, Jim. It's just that I'm getting older and I want to stay healthy. I got these all-natural vitamins from the health food store. They're a bit more expensive than the ones from the grocery story, but you know how I feel about using good things in my body." 

Jim intently looks at me. "You know, Chief, one of these days, you are going to just come out and tell me what you are doing without all the obfuscation." 

I look at my lover innocently. "What are you talking about?" 

"You're dying to ask me to take those damned things. You know I don't need vitamins. I'm perfectly healthy," Jim informs me. 

Ha! See, I told you he would say that! I watch Jim watching me take the vitamins. "You know, Jim, you are getting older. I just want what's best for you." Oh, damn, it slipped out anyway. 

"Then why don't you just ask me to take them?" 

"Ah, this is more fun?" 

Jim comes to stand beside me and smacks me on the back of the head. "Chief, you are a sneaky son-of-a-bitch. Give me the vitamins. If it makes you happy, I'll take them. You just have to ask." 

"Thanks, Jim. It makes me happy." 

"How happy?" Jim raises an eyebrow. 

I grin at my lover. "Oh, you just wouldn't believe how happy I can be." 

Jim takes up the challenge. "Try me." 

* * *

19\. Look into other alternative treatments. It is possible to reduce both physical and emotional stress using acupuncture and acupressure. These practices are also based on the idea of unblocking life force channels. 

* * *

With Sentinel senses, alternative treatments are the norm rather than the exception. Jim's senses react sporadically to most medications so we avoid them as much as possible. One time, we were on assignment transporting a protected witness by train back to Cascade. Jim had a bad cold and he took a couple of swigs of some cold medicine. That's all it took and he was as high as a kite for hours afterwards. He almost got himself killed being dragged under the train for miles. So I'm careful now to use as many natural remedies and treatments as possible. It's a good thing Jim doesn't get sick very often. Now if he'd just be more careful when he's apprehending a criminal... 

There was a funny story that I've never told anyone before about what happened between me and Jim the night Simon and I rescued him from the clutches of that dickhead, Colonel Oliver. I've never even told Jim because I thought he'd be embarrassed. I could just picture us doing the "did not, did too" routine. Anyway, Jim managed to outsmart and outshoot Oliver in spite of the drugs that Oliver had pumped into him, but not long after we rescued him, he started to come down from that adrenaline high he was on and he crashed big time. It took us fifteen minutes to get him from Simon's car into the loft and up the stairs that night. We just dropped Jim onto the bed, fully clothed. 

"Thanks, Captain, I'll take it from here," I said to Captain Banks. 

"You sure you can handle him?" Simon asked. 

"Yeah, I got it covered," I said, reassuring the captain. Simon nodded and left. I stripped my partner down to his boxers and tucked him into bed. The drugs had taken over and he was pretty much out of it by that time. I hoped that they'd wear off and he'd be okay by morning with maybe nothing more than a headache. Jim was kind of agitated and talking incoherently. He still thought he's being held hostage, so I sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed his arm, trying to calm him down. 

"Hey, Jim, listen to the sound of my voice. Focus. You're okay. You're home and you're safe, Jim, so just relax." I talked slowly and steadily for about ten minutes before he finally settled down. I got up to go down to my room and sleep. I was tired and it had been a long couple of days. I clicked off the lamp, but before I got to the top of the steps, I heard Jim calling me. 

"Blair?" he said in this groggy voice. 

I stopped because I was a bit confused. This was way before we became lovers and Jim hardly ever called me Blair back then. It was almost always Sandburg or Chief or any one of a couple of dozen other names thrown in for good measure. 

I went back over to the side of the bed. "Yes, Jim, it's me." 

Jim's hand reached out and grabbed mine. He tugged me onto the bed and before you know it, he had pulled me down on top of him and then he was hugging me. I started to panic about that time because I had no idea what was going on. I mean Jim's face was buried in my hair and his arms were wrapped around me so tight I could hardly breathe. 

Then Jim did something really strange. Strange for Jim Ellison, anyway, because this is way before I knew he loved me "like that". He held me tight and kissed my cheek and said, "I love you, Blair." Then his arms fell away and when I raised my head to look into his face, he was sound asleep. 

I was in shock, let me tell you. I just got up and went down to my room and lay awake all damned night thinking about what Jim had just done and said. I could hardly wait until morning to see what would happen, and when morning came, Jim was up and about. He acted normal, just like Jim. He never said anything about the night before. Then I realized that he didn't remember the night before. Shit. I was so depressed that for two days, I could hardly see straight. I had been in love with Jim for months by then, but it took the observant detective another two years before he made that admission to me again. I had to wait two fucking long years to hear him say, Blair, I love you. 

Have I told you what a patient man I am? I would have waited twenty fucking long years to hear Jim Ellison tell me that he loves me. Those two years were nothing. It was worth the wait. 

* * *

20\. Seek professional help. If a pet is stressed out and at risk for a health problem, and your efforts to reduce stress naturally just aren't giving enough relief, treatment with medications can be effective, as well as professional behavioral therapy. 

* * *

I don't mean to depress anybody but only a couple of people really know about what happened after we were dosed with Golden way back when: Jim, Simon and I. And the therapist, of course. 

After I woke up in the hospital and remembered what I had done, Jim and I had this horrendous fight. It was really awful. It wasn't loud or physical, but it was nasty and frightening. I don't want to go over every detail, but it was really all my fault. I felt so fucking guilty that I blamed it all on Jim. I accused him of putting all those other people's lives at risk because he couldn't do his job and that he let his personal feelings interfere. After all, he had preached to me enough times to keep my emotions in check, and ranted a lot more about the fact that police work isn't personal. Then he goes and risks his life to save me for no good reason. I accused him of failing because he didn't let the SWAT guys shoot me right then and there. 

Let me tell you, Jim was equally as pissed at me for even trying to tell him how to do his job. He told me I had no business interfering with the exercise of his duties as a police officer, and he could save anybody he damned well wanted to save. The small fact that he was blind seemed to be irrelevant to him. 

The bad part of the whole sad affair was that Simon was standing outside the door and we didn't even notice that he overheard the whole conversation. The good part was that after he came in and ordered both of us to shut up, he sent in the department psychiatrist that same day. 

We managed to talk about what had happened with the shrink, and after four or five sessions with the doctor, both of us realized that things weren't always the way we see them. I came to realize that what had happened wasn't my fault and I could get pass the guilty feelings, and that Jim had to at least try and save me because it was just the way he was. 

Same with Jim. He worked past the guilt he felt because he had brought me into the station in the first place and blamed himself for me even being dosed with the Golden. And he realized that I was his partner because I wanted to be. 

It was a trying couple of weeks but Jim and I worked through it. I'm glad we did. I was tempted to bail on the whole Sentinel thing several times in those first three years. Now I am happy that I didn't. I've found my place in the world and it's with Jim Ellison. Have I told you what a happy man I am now? 

* * *

I come home about 5:30 on Tuesday night and Jim's standing inside the door, waiting. I walk in and smile at my mate. 

"Hey, Jim, how's it going?" I look at his face. I can't quite tell what he's thinking. He looks like he's trying not to smile and is struggling to be serious. Then I glance at his hand and see... Oh, shit. He's holding the dog stress article. 

"Damn!" I smack my hand to my forehead. I had forgotten I left it on the counter this morning after reading it once again before breakfast. I had left early before Jim got up to do some stuff and completely forgot about dropping it on the island when I put my dishes in the sink. 

"Damn? That's all you have to say about 'this'?" Jim waves the offending pages in the air. He knows I've been experimenting on him because I've made a few notes along the margin of the pages and I x'd through a few paragraphs as I tried them. 

I shrug my shoulders and grin sheepishly. "Sorry, Jim," is all I can think of saying. I'm trying not to smile. 

Jim advances towards me. "But Chief, a dog? You think I'm on the same level as a dog?" 

I take a step back and hit the door. Now I am really grinning. "Well, Jim, you had to admit, there are some similarities in all people relating to different species of mammals. Besides, you like dogs." 

"Blair, you are in so much trouble now, it's pathetic." Jim's voice is growling but his face is smiling as he presses my body against the door with his. "You want to think I'm a dog, I'm going to show you just how much that correlates." 

My breathing escalates and my body starts to become interested in Jim's erection that's pressed against my hip. Jim leans down and licks my face from chin to eyebrow. "You've done it now." Another lick to one of my eyelids. "I'm going to show you how we dogs bury bones." A small lick to the tip of my nose. "I'm going to prove that dogs howl." A nip on my earlobe. "I'm going to fuck you doggy style until you're screaming or passed out, whichever comes first." A good-sized love bite is applied to the back of my neck just under my hairline. 

I try to talk through my excitement. "Then, Jim? Oh, shit! Mmmm. Jim!" I'm panting now. Jim knows just what buttons to push. I gather up a few brain cells and ask, "You're not mad at me?" 

Jim pulls back barely an inch to took into my eyes. He holds up the crumpled sheets of paper. "Over this? Hell no. Really, Blair, it's funny." Then Jim steps back and puts his hands on my shoulders. He is suddenly serious. "Chief, listen to me. This just proves to me yet again just how much you care about me. You're always looking out for me and you're concerned about me all the time. The fact that you read this in a dog magazine is kind of silly, but I know you do everything you do out of love. Only you could read this and use it to experiment on me. I'm used to these trips into the Sandburg zone." 

I run a hand down the side of my lover's face. "Oh, man, I do love you, more than you know." 

Jim smiles and cocks his head at me. His eyes crinkle when he grins. "Believe me, Blair, if it's half as much as I love you, then I know." 

* * *

End A Trip Through The Sandburg Zone by LilyK: chakbalam@gmail.com  
Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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